The Provisional
by Tidelcus
Summary: Gord is just trying to get through life without hurting himself. Which is interesting considering his goal is to become part of the Hylian Royal Guard. But when he is jailed just before the Trials, he must find another way to prove his worth.
1. Prologue

The Provisional 

_Author's Note:  I have taken the liberty of creating a character of my own to live, love and die in Hyrule.  Although the locations you might recognize the main character will be mine.  He will interact and draw main characters in from the games but for starters, the story focuses on my guy.  I have also taken most of my material from Ocarina of Time's visual world and layout.  There will be more realistic period stuff going on in the story, but I hope to stay true to the light-hearted fantasy of the Hyrulean story._

Prologue 

            There were three rules every merchant in the Market knew: one, fancy people go to the Market, two, fancy people give fancy money, and three, with fancy money you get fancy taxes.  For that reason it was understood among the merchants that sometimes, and only sometimes mind you, they would sell something for twenty rupees and report it to the tax collectors as sold for say, fifteen rupees.  The teamsters ignored this practice too, but mostly because they got a little extra out of the deal for themselves.  Well, _most_ of them did anyway.  The few that didn't (and voiced their disapproval) found they were getting into trouble more often than not.  Some might say it was bad luck.  Those who knew better found it a good incentive to keep their mouths shut.  Still, there were those who _didn't _know better, and…well…let's just say that life at times is just a little unfair.


	2. The Prisoner

The Provisional 

Chapter One/ /The Prisoner

            "How did it go?"

            _How do you _think _it went?_  His answer was a contemptuous glare at a mental picture of the Warden.

            The tall one pulled his head back, almost knocking it on the gray stone wall.  _Geez.  I was just asking._  "Well, what happened?"

            "I told him about the big guy and what he did."  The blond one landed on a crate that had been turned on its head.  The old box groaned as the wood bowed under his weight.

            _If that breaks it'll be the third this month.  If it weren't him sitting on them all the time I'd blame the broken crates on the soggy air in here._

            "And he says to me, 'What did he do that for?' like I'm supposed to know what bounces around in the gourd of that … _Goron_ over there."

            The tall one cranked himself around to refresh his mental image of the prisoner.  When he couldn't see that far he began a paced stroll over to the cell.  The prisoner attempted lifting his head, which was apparently a little too heavy for his neck.  He gave up the effort and let his head hang there, a furry rock, in-between the knees acting as pedestals for his bound wrists.  "Ya know Gabe, I really don't think he's a Goron.  I know he's short and burly and all, but he definitely looks human to me."

            "You dork.  I _know_ he's not a Goron.  It's just a figure a' speech."  The blond one made a face and pulled on his ears.  _What an idiot._

            "Oh."  _He's pulling his ears out again.  He's too tense._  "So then what happened?"

            "Well, I told him what I knew."

            "But you don't know anything – about him I mean."

            "So that's what I told him then, wasn't it?"

            "Well, yeah, I suppose so.  But why didn't you just –"

            "Just shut up and let me finish okay?  So I told him I didn't know, then he says…"

_            I hate the air in here.  It always feels like it's just about to rain, which wouldn't be such a bad thing since the floor's covered with…nastiness.  What is that stuff anyway?  I wonder if that's why it always smells like Lon Lon Ranch in here?  Some of the walls look like month-old bread too._

"…so then he asked me where he came from, and I told him I didn't know…"

_Great Moblins in the foothills!   I'm hungry.  I would eat down here if I didn't feel like I was eating out of a crapper.  Not that my wife's food tastes that great….  She probably sneaks in here at night and scrapes the foulness of the floor and walls then cooks it.  No wonder it always smells so bad when she's cooking.  I would starve if it weren't for the Mess Hall here in the Castle._

"…and finally he asked me what his name was, but I didn't know.  Then he got that look on his face – you know which one I'm talking about?"

The hairs on the tall one's neck stood almost as straight as the ones on his head.  Gabe saw him trying to fight back a nightmare.

            "The one where he looks possessed?"  The tall one said.

            "Yeah.  That one.  That's when he told me to get out of his room.  So now I'm just going to take the prisoner up there so he can see for himself."  Their eyes turned from each other to the prisoner, who had since managed to lift his head.  From where they stood his sea blue eyes and red hair looked uniformly dark.  Along with the gritty overcoat smudged with mud along the bottom, they matched the blackish-purple shadows that had coerced him into the corner of his cell.  The ropes snaking about his wrists looked loose, but the Hylian Dungeon Guards knew they constricted his hands together quite forcefully, as they had been trained to do with his type.  The shackle around his sturdy leg was chained to the not-so-sturdy thick iron bars that covered the entrance to his cell.  They knew the restraints would hold him in place – they had detained tougher teamsters than this one.  What they were more concerned about was _getting him out_.


	3. Bad Luck

**The Provisional**

Chapter Two/ /Bad Luck

In a room with many shadows, teasing moths of noise took advantage of the Warden's bad ears.  In a room with fewer shadows these noises spreading from the corners wouldn't startle a squirrel, but the heavy wooden door allowed the glimmering yellow pastels to dally in only so far before the gloomy room pushed itself onto the encroaching lamplight.  The deep blackish purples and greens did not keep sound or smell out however.  The Warden hesitated, smelling the horse manure making its way up the stairs.  _Another teamster._  He dropped his carving tool down by the wax tablet and slouched down even further, sliding his chair back across the rug underneath his boots.  As the thumping clang of Prison Guards' boots proclaimed the oncoming processional of his guards, the Warden clamped his pale eyelids down and took in deep wheezing breaths of the night air sneaking through a crack in the floor off to his left.  A silhouette presented itself in his doorway.  _Oh good.  The idiot parade is here._  

He supported his head at the cheekbone by arranging it on the reddish upturned palm connected to his folded arms.  He stared forward to the man who had to turn sideways to enter his doorway.  "Do you know anything yet Gabe?"  _That was a dumb question._

Gabe's face slowly scrunched like a deflating accordion as confusion and mild panic beset his heart.  "About what, sir?"

"The prisoner, Gabe."

"Oh!  Right, sir!  Well you'll be happy to know I have brought him up here so you can question him."

"That much I can smell.  What I can't seem to figure out is why you brought a prisoner to my quarters."  The desert sand face turned to white pudding as Gabe realized at that point just how many rules he had broken.  "You know, you're not much use to me.  All you do is create fires for me to put out.  I don't like that much Gabe; I have to work too hard when you do that.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"

His Adam's apple took a bounce.  "You're unhappy, sir?"

"Yes.  But then again I'm always unhappy with you Gabe.  It's just that now I'm going to do something about it.  Show the prisoner in then leave."

The accordion deflated again.  "Do you mean your room or the Castle, sir?"

"Both."

"Okay, sir."

"Now."

          "Yes, sir.

          The Warden glowered at the back of the blond guard's retreating head.

_I hate this job._  

- - - 

Gord saw interest, contempt, and admiration staring back at him from the Warden's dark eyes.

          "_That's _why you think you're here?" the Warden said.  The question was more for the Warden's benefit – he was manipulating the conversation.

          The prisoner looked at his feet as if expecting them to answer, but when they remained silent he frowned.  "I don't know.  Could be bad luck too."

          "Bad luck?"  It was more a laugh than a question.

          The prisoner's jaw muscles bulged as he clenched his teeth.  "Well I wasn't the one who started all the ruckus," he said through clenched teeth, "it was the other fellas – they jumped me."  After his anger released, Gord got control and relaxed his muscles, which resumed their bulging positions.  "I was the only one arrested though.  Like I said: bad luck."  The Warden's eyes – staring, skeptic and dark – reminded Gord of someone.  His mind buzzed looking for whom, but he came up empty.

          "That's not what 'the other fellas' said.  _They_ said –"

          "You can't believe them!  Teamsters are all a bunch of lying cheats!"  The ropes around the prisoner's wrists grunted as the cords strained their tight knots.  Gord pulled on them not to escape, but out of anger.

          "Gord, you are a teamster."  The dark eyes mocked as the voice challenged.

          Silence.

          The Warden pulled himself up by clasping the table and heaving.  Gord saw the dark eyes bulge a bit and smiled: the Warden wasn't used to working that hard.  The Warden smiled back.  "I have a proposal for you that might have a solution in it for both of us."

          With this last string of words Gord made the connection; the Warden reminded him of his boss.  That sneaky man always had a plan to sucker you out of something, and he was always trying to get something for nothing.  Gord hated that.  "But it might not.  It might be a solution for you but not for me," the prisoner said.

          "You're from Kakariko Villiage, right?"  The Warden said, dodging the question.

          The prisoner's head rose with his eyebrow to challenge the Warden.  "I thought you didn't know anything about me."

"Why would you think that?"  The diversion worked.

"You asked the blond guard all those questions about who I am, what my name is, who I work for, what I do in the Market…where I came from…."

"Ah, you see?"  The Warden smiled triumphantly.  "There is my problem!"  The Warden moved his hands back to the chair and pushed himself up.  His soft leather boots scuffed the ground as he circled the heavy wood table he was sitting at.  "I was testing those guards.  They can't even interrogate prisoners!"

"They did sound a little stupid."

"Stupid?  Those guards are _idiots!_  What I need is someone who can think."  With this he closed in and his eyes met with the prisoner's.  "Now I know you aren't the smartest of men, but you can fight.  And I know why you are here – to compete in the Provisionals and become a Hylian Castle Guard.  But you missed the Provisionals Gordo.  Anyway, after what happened this morning in the Market I don't think the King will want you anywhere near his Castle."  The prisoner sunk his chin into his chest; he knew he was helpless to do anything now.  He was in prison, charged with Public Violence in the Royal Market.  The Warden drew the prisoner's attention to himself again: "But I can change all that.  I just need you to do something for me."

The prisoner snapped his head up.  "Just tell me what it is."

"I need an interrogation tool that found its way into the Kakariko Well.  It is a round glass piece in a purple holder with a purple handle.  I ask you for two reasons: one, if I sent one of my guards they would get lost – I need someone with a familiarity of Kakariko and half a brain; two, I know there are secret passages down there, but I don't know how to find them."

"What do you need it for?"

"That does not concern you, Gordo.  Becoming a Hylian Royal Guard concerns you.  I will recommend you to the King if you prove yourself competent.  If not, I'll let you go just for coming back alive."

"What if I don't except?"

The Warden leaned in closer to the prisoner, hissing on his face.  "Then you'll stay here."  The Warden pulled back and loosed a wicked smile.  "You're from Kakariko.  You know what that means."  Gord's face went pale and his knees shuddered.  The Warden saw the effect his words had and was satisfied.  The Warden called in the guard at his door to escort the prisoner out of the Castle; he was free.  The Warden walked back over to his chair and sat down.  He picked up his wax carver and was about to resume work on his tablet when the blond guard poked his head in the doorway.

"Um, am I fired, sir?"

"Gabe, if you aren't crossing the drawbridge in one minute I will have you killed."  Gabe turned quickly to leave, but he didn't make it far without tripping.  The Warden listened to Gabe slam all the way down his stairs.  His shoulders sunk and he glowered at the place where Gabe's head had been.  

The Warden leaned over and farted.

_I hate this job._


	4. The Meeting

Trintan watched Gordo clamber down the street toward him. He remembered what his watch commander had told him, that Gordo was a prime candidate for the Palace Guard, and as he surveyed the man coming toward him, Trintan the place guardsman did not think his watch commander knew what he was talking about.

Gordo had too much slouch to his shoulders, for one thing, and not enough pride in his walk, for another. There wasn't even any style to his meandering shuffle. In fact, Trintan wondered if Gordo was man enough to face anything remotely resembling defense. He would remember this first impression for years to come, but not because Gordo made a great first impression. The most memorable part of Gordo was how he sprang to life out of that shell of seeming harmlessness in the most shocking ways. And most shockingly of all, this life sprang forth most shockingly because of a woman.

"Hey there," said Trintan by way of introduction, "the name's Trintan," and held out his hand. Gordo, quite familiar with this basic form of introduction and hello, took Trintan's hand and shook it firmly.

"Hey," Gordo said gruffly. "You the guy?"

"That's the rumor," Trintan said. Gordo looked Trintan up and down, appraising.

"Let's get this over with," Gordo said shortly. Trintan laughed merrily, but at what Gordo had no idea.

"Not so fast!" Trintan said. "This isn't like dragging a horse and cart around, you know. There's a lot to treasure hunting, and if you don't plan your hunt just right, you'll end up dead, or worse." Gordo scowled at these words.

"I don't know anything about treasure, but I do know about hunting. As for dying, we're going to rot to death sitting here talking," Gordo said, and he started off toward the well. It was at this point Trintan saw the pack on Gordo's back, complete with a spade (a small shovel for digging small holes quickly), a whip, and an enormous sledgehammer.

"Where are you going?" Trintan called after him, beginning to worry.

"To work," said Gordo. Trintan watched as the big man shuffled up to the end of the mountain pass leading straight through the center of the villiage, stopping at a small cul-de-sac, in the middle of which stood a squat well with an old decrepit roof to keep leaves from falling in it, and to keep birds from pooping in it. The bucket looked incredibly old, as if even an ounce of water in it would cause it to fall to pieces right in the hands of whoever was trying to use it.

Gordo stopped in front of the well, then walked around it, looking it up and down as if he was a merchant determining the value of his goods. Then, when he completed his circuit, Gordo stopped suddenly, and pulled the sledgehammer out of his pack. Tristan realized at this point what Gordo was planning, and gasped in fear.

"Gordo!" he said, "Stop!" And ran toward Gordo, his hands waving in the air in a futile attempt to get Gordo's attention. It was too late, as Gordo had decided not to listen to Tristan the moment he lay eyes on him. It was a mistake he would remember for a long time.

Gordo pulled the hammer back and let loose with a massive lateral swing at the posts holding the already unstable roof above Kakariko Well, shattering all four wooden posts and sending the roof flying to land in shattering pieces.

Just then there was an ear-splitting shriek that raised the hairs on everyone's necks. The villiage grew suddenly quiet, and the source of that shriek came barreling toward Gordo, who was struck with fear at the terrible wrath of the creature that came upon him.


End file.
